


to love another (if i could, i would)

by jessicamiriamdrew



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Forbidden Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Years of Pining, a bit of kakashi character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/pseuds/jessicamiriamdrew
Summary: "The Hokage shall not pursue any kind of romantic or sexual relationship with his direct subordinates."This might be an issue for Kakashi, considering the existence of one Umino Iruka.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 30
Kudos: 336





	to love another (if i could, i would)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deepestbluest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestbluest/gifts).



> the title is from bad days by tove lo.
> 
> this is canon divergent, and i plucked pieces of later canon to use as i wanted. canon is a loose guideline and i went wild
> 
> Deepestbluest, this was based off one text exchange we had and the specific scene didnt make it in the final draft, but hopefully you like it anyway!
> 
> in case anyone is concerned based off tags and summary, there are no misuses of power/weird power dynamics. kakashi is hokage, but he and iruka have known each other a long time.

_**The Hokage shall not pursue any kind of romantic or sexual relationship with his direct subordinates.** _

“I don’t know why you’re pointing this out to me,” Kakashi says, looking up from the list of rules of office that Tsunade handed to him.

Tsunade snorts at him and then takes a swig from her glass, liquid beading on her mouth. “So you’re not boning Iruka-sensei on the regular?”

Kakashi flushes, his brain launching some of the fantasies that he has on frequent rotation: a handful of them involve the Hokage robes and showing up late for meetings, others have Iruka and Kakashi mysteriously being out sick the same day.

“No,” he says. “We are not involved.”

“Kid, you need to be a better liar if you’re going to have this job.” She looks tired, enough so that Kakashi remembers that it’s partly because of her that he’s taking the position. Tsunade deserves a retirement, after all that’s happened to her and within Konoha.

“Tsunade-sama. I swear to you, on my hat, that Iruka-sensei and I are not together.”

She stares at him, brows furrowed, and the scrutiny in her eyes is unnerving. He doesn’t flinch, but he’s still not used to being stared down by one of the sannin. 

“Huh. You really mean it,” Tsunade says. “Even though...”

She doesn’t finish her half sentence, and he’s grateful for even that much kindness. He wants to ask what it is that she’s witnessed, what’s given him away.

Kakashi is not enough of a fool to expect that being Hokage is a job that inspires envy - at least not in those who understand the responsibility. How the job makes one’s life about Konoha, even when that means one’s life doesn’t conform to what one wants — the life he’s imagined, cradled to his gasping chest, in the moments he thought he was dying.

“There is nothing between us,” Kakashi says, one more time. He hopes it will be the last.

*

It isn’t, of course, because the universe has never been kind to Kakashi about the things he wants. His family is dead, his friends are dead, and all he wants is not to be Hokage. 

He could disappear somewhere. Start his own hidden village, emphasis on the hidden. 

His council - god, he hates even thinking of them as his - has decided to interrogate him on his “romantic entanglements.”

Kakashi wishes one of them would be bold enough to say “Are you fucking the vice principal of the academy?” That would be much more enjoyable for everyone. 

Or maybe just for him. If he has to sit through this torment, he should get to have a little fun.

“No,” he says. “I am not involved with anyone. My loyalty is to my office.”

“And your next of kin?”

He sees Sakumo on the floor, even though he knows they’re trying to trap him in a different type of admission. He doubts there is anyone left to remember or mourn Sakumo. Kakashi is the target for their continued rage at the disaster of the main Hatake branch.

“Maito Gai,” he says. “Everything I have will go to him.”

There are a few surprised murmurs, but no one seems offended by it. While it may not be the conventional choice - there _are_ distant Hatake relations - there is little the council can do to cast aspersions on his decision.

“Including your home?”

Kakashi hesitates, imagining the Hatake compound as it was in his smattering of happy memories. He’d thought, once, that he and Iruka might get to spend a few weekends splattering fresh paint on the walls and picking out rugs.

Too domestic to consider, even with a different person, someone who doesn’t report directly to him.

He only wants Iruka.

“That will go to Uzumaki Naruto.” 

Anyone foolish enough to assume he’d mention Iruka doesn’t deserve their spot on the council.

*

Kakashi and Iruka are so very careful not to be alone. When they have meetings that are just the two of them, like they are right now, Kakashi’s doors are open wide. Halfway through, Shikamaru is scheduled to check in.

He isn’t sure why people think he couldn’t ask Shikamaru to lie for him, but people trust in Shikarmaru’s honesty, at least about this.

Iruka will be sitting at a perfectly respectable distance, and Kakashi will not reach out to hold his hand. If the brush of their fingers when trading documents makes Iruka’s smile smolder, that is a secret only they and the walls will know.

He should have taken Iruka home on one of the nights they gravitated together, or asked Iruka out when Naruto spent those two years on the road with Jiraiya. He hadn’t realized they would lose the chance.

*

Naruto and Hinata’s wedding is different. Kakashi has a place of honor, not so much due to his position as Hokage, as because of his relationship to Naruto. Iruka, as Naruto’s father, is seated beside him.

It’s strange, Kakashi thinks, how much Naruto getting married feels like his own son getting married. Naruto’s bright grin and Iruka’s red rimmed eyes are going to carry Kakashi through many sad nights.

The Hyuuga, and more significantly, the village, are determined to make this a memorable night for Naruto and Hinata. Kakashi is enjoying the moments of quiet as the rest of the guests leave the tables in search of drinks and dance.

“Are you not going to dance, Hokage-sama?” Iruka asks, plopping into the seat next to Kakashi. He takes a sip of champagne from Kakashi’s glass and grins, before placing it back down.

“No one has asked,” Kakashi says. “I suspect it’s the hat.”

“Tsk,” Iruka says. “You always keep yourself covered up. How are people supposed to know they should ask?” Iruka reaches forward, gently sliding the Hokage’s hat off of Kakashi’s head and hanging it on the back of the chair.

“Would you?” Kakashi asks. It’s Naruto’s wedding. No one can fault them for this, he thinks.

“Oh, Hokage-sama. You would deign to dance with a lowly chunin?” Iruka teases.

Kakashi grabs his wrist, mood sombering as he waits for Iruka’s nod.

Iruka smiles and yanks Kakashi to his feet. “I think there might be a dark corner with our name on it, Kakashi-san.”

There is a quieter corner of the dance floor, and they don’t dance so much as they sway while holding each other. 

“The times I’ve wanted to hold you like this,” Kakashi says, his lips brushing Iruka’s forehead. 

“You could have,” Iruka says. The _before_ is unspoken, and Kakashi closes his eyes like it can keep his regrets from drowning him on dry land.

“I was afraid you’d come here with someone else,” Kakashi admits, honesty squeezing like a vice. 

Iruka’s hand touches his cheek, gentler than Kakashi is sure he deserves. 

“There isn’t anyone else.”

Kakashi pulls away from Iruka long enough to throw up some cloaking jutsus. 

They can blame it on the freely flowing alcohol of the open bar if they get caught.

“Would you kiss me just once? Tonight?”

Iruka’s lips are soft against his own, and Kakashi knows that if Iruka asked, he’d give up everything.

Some days, Kakashi wishes Iruka would demand it, say that he can’t wait for Kakashi any longer, that it’s now or never.

“We should get back,” Iruka says, dropping his hand from Kakashi’s cheek. “I’m sure people will be looking for us.”

_Fuck everyone else_ , Kakashi thinks. He’d rather stay in this corner with Iruka than pretend that he isn’t so deeply in love it shapes his every thought.

Kakashi kisses Iruka, chasing the noise of surprise Iruka makes when Kakashi deepens the kiss.

“Don’t - you can’t kiss me like that,” Iruka says, pushing him back.

“Why can’t I?”

Iruka huffs, vestiges of annoyance creeping into his body language. “Don’t make me say it, Kakacchi.”

He grabs for Iruka’s hand, twining their fingers together. 

“We could get caught,” Kakashi says, his posture drooping in resignation. 

“I already want to kiss you more than I should,” Iruka replies, squeezing his hand. “That’s why.”

The moment swells around them, pushing them together, the roar of the wedding party a background blur to Kakashi’s ears.

*

Naruto and Hinata invite them for dinner every Friday night. Kakashi isn’t sure if or what Iruka told him, or if it’s something Naruto picked up on his own; regardless, Naruto knows that Iruka and Kakashi struggle with this enforced distance.

In Naruto and Hinata’s home, Kakashi and Iruka can sit next to each other, bodies touching and hands brushing. Some nights, they end up on the couch watching a movie, the four of them. When it’s a hard day, Kakashi and Iruka sit at opposite ends of the table and pretend they don’t wish they were touching.

Today is the latter. Iruka’s hand is tapping restlessly, and Kakashi wants to offer to leave. Kakashi wants to resign, to tell Naruto to be Hokage now, because Kakashi can’t bear to see the way Iruka looks on these nights without being able to touch him.

The candles aren’t even halfway melted in their holders, and Kakashi always prefers to leave after they are either extinguished by Hinata or go out on their own.

“How is this year’s Academy garden?” Hinata asks, smoothly trying to nudge Iruka back into the conversation. The garden was something Iruka instituted with a grant, and a hint of a smile is back on Iruka’s face at the thought.

Maybe Kakashi should discuss this entire situation with someone.

But there aren't any solutions here, not when Iruka cried in his office over the death of a genin today, and Kakashi can’t hold him the way they both want him to.

“I’m thinking about teaching the older kids how to pickle foods,” Iruka says. 

“This is just a ploy to get me to eat vegetables,” Naruto says, eyes narrowed at Iruka.

“No,” Iruka says. “That would be the vegan brownies I feed you all the time.”

Hinata laughs, clear and light, over Naruto’s noises of indignation, and if only things were different. This could be Naruto’s father and his father’s partner over for dinner.

Instead, they are separate to Naruto.

Iruka and Kakashi are separate from each other. 

*

“You could be with someone else. I’m not worth waiting around for.”

They’re being careless by meeting outside of Iruka’s home, despite Kakashi having scheduled his ANBU guard to those that are most trustworthy.

Iruka laughs, brittle enough that Kakashi feels it sweep around them. Kakashi can barely make out his features in the dark, but Kakashi reaches for Iruka anyway. Iruka’s hand stops him, grabbing his arm, and Kakashi freezes.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Kakashi asks, unaware of which boundary he has trampled.

Iruka pushes him back and Kakashi stumbles, Iruka’s anger taking him by surprise. “I’ve tried dating other people,” Iruka says. 

Kakashi’s blood is mercurial in his veins, switching from despondency to rage. He doesn’t have the right to be possessive, but he’s never been able to contain himself.

“They tell me I’m too distant, that I clearly want something - someone - else.”

This isn’t sustainable: each encounter drains them, every concealed touch a temporary balm to a necrotizing wound.

“The worst part is knowing that they’re right.”

Iruka lets go of his arm, then brings Kakashi’s hand up so he can kiss the palm.

It feels as though it’s the most intimate contact they’ve had in years, maybe ever, even though Kakashi knows the taste of Iruka’s mouth on his own.

Kakashi would spend the rest of his days in a genjutsu for this one touch.

*

“Enjoy your date tonight, Iruka!” 

Kakashi doesn’t see who says it, too busy watching Iruka’s face color at the comment and slap on the shoulder.

A bit bold of them to do when Iruka is talking to the Hokage in front of the Hokage’s office, in Kakashi’s entirely biased opinion.

And then there’s the amount of anguish he feels at the suggestion of someone getting to be alone with Iruka, to undress him, to make him beg for more. 

People always seem to discuss how strange it is that neither Iruka nor Kakashi have settled down.

The rumors must be particularly loud now, given how Shikamaru has been sitting in all of their meetings.

Despite how careful they are. Despite how Kakashi and Iruka haven’t been alone in a closed room since before he became Hokage.

“Maybe he’ll be the man for you, sensei.” Kakashi wishes he meant the affirmation.

He also wishes it hadn’t come out of his mouth in a sneer.

There are too many people around for Kakashi to resolve this the way he wants: by pushing Iruka up against the wall and kissing him, hitching up his legs so he holds on.

Iruka reaches out to him, hand stopping in mid-air. 

If they touch, Kakashi won’t want to let him go.

“That isn’t fair,” Iruka says.

Nothing is, about any of this. Kakashi never wanted to be Hokage; he wanted to make amends, but it didn’t have to be like this.

He already knows that someone will tell him if Iruka’s evening ends with a goodnight kiss. The rumor mill always makes sure he finds out.

The only solace is that Iruka rarely goes on a third date.

“I’ll be thinking of you, Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi amends. “That’s all I meant.”

Iruka takes a step forward, leans in closer than they have any business being. “I always wish it were you across the dinner table,” Iruka whispers. “Every single time.”

*

He skips the following Friday night dinner to drink and finish paperwork in his office. He doesn’t want to hear Iruka’s polite fabrications to spare his feelings, or worse, that Iruka is just as miserable. Kakashi doesn’t let himself picture Boruto asking why he didn’t show up for bedtime stories.

Sometimes, when Naruto and Hinata are out of the room, Kakashi imagines grabbing Iruka by the fabric of his dinner clothes, the nice ones that Kakashi would remove gently if they had time.

If they could be a couple, if every fucking set of eyes wasn’t watching the Hokage for a slip of the appearances he’s supposed to maintain.

Kakashi pictures Iruka’s crestfallen face when a note arrives announcing the Hokage is unavailable to join their scheduled dinner.

Or maybe it’s better this way, maybe this is what they’d prefer—the happy family that Iruka and Naruto deserve, with Kakashi a frantic hanger on.

A shitty, replaceable copy.

*

Despite his best attempts at shuffling his schedule to avoid Iruka, cancelling the quarterly meeting between the Academy superiors and the Hokage would be suspect.

He’s frightened by the possibility of what Iruka’s expression will show him, and he forces himself to take copious notes when Iruka speaks. 

It hardly helps: Kakashi knows how Iruka’s smile sounds when he’s discussing the latest group of pre-genin, and the frustrated wrinkle in his forehead with talk of curriculum change.

“—Hokage-sama?” Shikamaru says, interrupting his wandering thoughts. 

“My apologies,” Kakashi says smoothly, making a production of returning his attention to the proceedings. “I have a bit of a headache.”

Iruka rises from his spot at the furthest end of the table — a distance keeping measure ingrained in their subconsciouses — and Kakashi wonders if his lie was that obvious, or if Iruka reads him that well. 

He doesn’t have long to consider, as Iruka reappears next to him holding a glass of cold water.

Kakashi gets the barest brush of Iruka’s fingertips across his hand as he takes the drink from him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and imagines the smile on Iruka’s face is one reserved for him. 

Years of staring at Iruka from across the table, the room, and never the other side of the bed. 

The rest of the meeting almost fails to exist, for Kakashi is counting the ways he can be close to Iruka again.

“Hokage-sama,” Iruka says, when the room is near empty, “Naruto asked if you could call on him for dinner this weekend.”

He wants to read into those words.

He wants to know it’s Iruka asking.

*

“So, did he learn this from you?” Kakashi asks, staring at the locked door. It’s reinforced with chakra wire, and Kakashi has a begrudging amount of respect for the design.

Iruka pivots, ponytail bobbing, and it would be so easy to take his hair down, smooth out the inevitable crease in his hair. 

“NO!” Naruto yells from behind the door. “THIS WAS ME AND HINATA’S IDEA!”

It’s quiet, for a moment, and then Hinata pipes up. “We’ll be upstairs. And you know the house is chakra-sealed.”

No ANBU guards to eavesdrop on changes in chakra levels. No tittering about how Iruka is working late in the Hokage’s office again.

“Just...consider it,” Naruto says. “Take the night.”

Naruto has done so many things for Kakashi—but this is the moment that might break him. 

“This is ridiculous,” Iruka mutters. “I can’t believe he locked us in his basement.”

“His nice, finished, has-its-own-bedroom-and-bathroom basement,” Kakashi says, echoing Naruto’s fervent recitation when he demanded to show it to Kakashi and Iruka.

Iruka huffs a laugh, and Kakashi wants to feel Iruka’s laugh on his lips.

“He went to all this trouble to get us laid,” Iruka says.

That isn’t the whole truth, but maybe Iruka doesn’t feel up to admitting it. Even though it’s strange, it’s a near perfect temporary solution. No one is going to question Iruka and Kakashi staying the night with Naruto and Hinata, not for one night.

Iruka looks at him, face calculating. Kakashi is in his jounin uniform, not his hokage robes, and if Kakashi pretends, imagines that they’re younger and figured things out in time—

“Not getting to kiss you every day makes me want to gouge my face off the stupid mountain.”

He told Sasuke once that doing the chidori three times in a row would kill him. Saying this to Iruka feels like he’s done two and is gearing up for a third.

Iruka shakes his head, stepping close enough that he can rest his hands on Kakashi’s waist. “I’m more a fan of paint-based vandalism when it comes to that,” Iruka says, eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Kakashi waits, as he always will for Iruka, and maybe it’s the knowledge that this is just for a night that does Iruka in, but Iruka kisses him.

There are tears wanting to well up in Kakashi’s eyes, but he forces them down. There will be time for that tomorrow, but not when Iruka is tugging him in.

“Come on,” Iruka says, and Kakashi follows.

The futon is big enough for two. The dresser next to it has a drawer ajar that Kakashi suspects it is full of the items Naruto thought they would need.

Iruka pushes him down gently, his hand going underneath Kakashi’s head before it can hit the fabric of the mattress.He keeps Kakashi in place, steadying him, and all Kakashi knows is that he doesn’t deserve this. 

It’s slow as they undress, both of them getting caught up in planes of skin and scars and crevices they’ve seen from a distance or not at all. Iruka kisses down the length of the line over Kakashi’s eye, and Kakashi shudders.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Iruka admits. “Our scars made me feel like we’re perpendicular to each other.”

Kakashi kisses him, putting his hands low on Iruka’s hips. There’s so many fantasies he’s had about one night with Iruka, and now that he has it, he thinks he’d be content just holding Iruka.

But Iruka continues to kiss him, hands wandering to lace his fingers with Kakashi’s, and Kakashi thinks of all the ways Iruka could kill him right now.

The vulnerability pierces through him with a stab of desire.

This would be simple if Iruka were someone Kakashi met at a bar, a civilian he’ll never see again, but Iruka knows all of Kakashi’s weaknesses. Iruka is the biggest one he has.

“We shouldn’t waste our time,” Iruka says, pressing a kiss to Kakashi’s forehead.

“No time spent with you could be wasted.”

*

He can’t keep anything from Gai, despite years of deep cover missions and training and wounds on the battlefield.

Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t want to, that for all the time Kakashi has spent avoiding connection, Gai has stayed and is thus the holder of the Hatake secrets.

And there are stories he wants to share: Iruka and his flexibility, and the number of condoms they used, and how Naruto clapped them both on the back in the morning. He’s not sure Hinata will ever be able to make eye contact with him again.

But maybe he shouldn’t share this. Having a significant secret that isn’t one of pain and destruction is a rarity in their world.

“You seem lighter, rival,” Gai says, handing him a glass of sake direct from the Maito kitchen cupboards. 

Kakashi nods his thanks and takes a sip. The ritual of their friendship is always soothing.

“Iruka,” Kakashi says, and hates the slight lines of tension in Gai’s body. “He and I… managed to be alone.”

Gai blinks, eyes suddenly full of exuberant tears, and nods at him.

“I am so happy for you!” Gai blurts. “You have pined for so long, to finally declare your love!”

Kakashi glances into his cup of sake like it will provide him an answer that Gai won’t hate, that Kakashi himself won’t mind sharing.

“Nothing has changed,” Kakashi says. “I’m still the Hokage.”

Gai scoffs, and takes a drink from his own cup. “Which is exactly why you should be able to see this through. We know that there are no consent issues.”

He grinds the fingers of his free hand against his forehead. “The optics are bad. Of me being the Hokage, of Iruka being Naruto’s father. There could be accusations of nepotism.”

“Those same condemnations could be made now.” Gai understands Kakashi’s role, but the fervency of his reaction is startling.

“And if they think I coerced him into his job? Or that he bribed me?”

He huffs, brain whirring through all the possibilities Tsunade had warned him about.

“I challenge you to find your happy ending.” Gai is serious; the traditional playfulness associated with their rivalry has dissipated.

“An automatic win for yourself,” Kakashi drawls. “Not very sporting.”

The sake is bitter when he swallows it down.

*

If anyone will have an answer, it’s Tsunade. He shunshins to her home, not bothering to send word ahead. His guard will catch up, and she has her own.

She eyes him when she opens the door, but she relents and lets him enter.

“Is your home secure?” he asks, wanting to be safe from eavesdropping by the parts of society that won’t let them be. 

“Kid. Of course it is.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, more a gesture of tiredness than vivacity. He wishes, not for the first time, that they knew each other better.

Kakashi joins her at her table, sitting back on his feet. It’s been too long since he’s seen her, he thinks to himself. He should check in more.

He waves off the glass that she proffers, too worried he’ll forget what he’s saying when one drink inevitably turns into three.

“You warned me about relationships,” he says. “A few years ago.”

Tsunade raises an eyebrow, fingers drumming on the table top. “Don’t tell me you knocked someone up.”

He scowls, certain she can tell the face he’s making even with his mask on.

“Does marriage circumvent the rules?” Kakashi asks. It’s a heavy word in his mouth, all the more because he hasn’t mentioned the idea to Iruka.

Her mouth is pursed; seeing her reaction makes him nervous.

“If you were married, he still couldn’t report only to you, and you couldn’t be involved in any promotions.”

He doesn’t want to be - and Iruka would immolate with rage if anyone genuinely accused him of sleeping his way to the top.

“Why not resign?” Tsunade asks, gesturing to the air.

It’s the question he ponders every time Iruka smiles at him, every moment their hands brush. He’s lived on this little for years, sublimating all he wants with Iruka into these barely extant exchanges. Kakashi wants more with Iruka: not to catalogue each interaction with concern for discovery, but to amass so many moments that he can no longer count them.

“My duty is to Konoha,” he says. To the restoration of her glory and to his clan name.

“Fuck Konoha. This village has rot in its roots, and being Hokage is asking to get infected.”

He wonders if she’s drinking less now that she’s retired, or if she wakes up from similar nightmares, aching for something to soothe the visions.

“Is he worth this?” Tsunade asks. Her tone isn’t harsh. There’s wonder in it, maybe at the fact that Kakashi has found something good.

“I’d like to find out.”

*

He summons Naruto to the Hokage tower, worry settling in his gut. Kakashi took over for Tsunade, and he’d promised Naruto he’d hold on to the office until Naruto was ready.

He doesn’t like breaking promises, especially not to Naruto, who was barely given any for so long.

“Kakashi-sensei, is this official business?” Naruto asks, hand holding on to the doorframe.

“This time it is,” Kakashi says. 

Naruto nods, closes the door, and plops down in the seat in front of Kakashi’s desk. 

“I am very grateful for what you have done for me,” Kakashi starts, “but it has led me to a revelation.”

Kakashi wonders when Naruto got so mature - he isn’t the child Kakashi remembers training, he’s an adult now. War ages them all, but Naruto has risen to each challenge.

He sighs, making some quick seals to toss up a sound barrier around the two of them. There’s no sense in his decision getting out to the public before he’s ready.

“I used to think that serving Konoha was what I had to do,” Kakashi says. “That it was my only option.”

Naruto hums at him, face studiously blank.

Kakashi slumps in his seat, all his intentions of proving himself worthy of his title dissipating as his mind wanders, as usual, to Iruka.

It’s hard to articulate the fears that populate his mind: that Iruka will fall out of love, that Kakashi will be left behind, that a decision Kakashi makes as Hokage will cause Iruka to hate him. Distance may make the heart grow fonder, but the span of years drags on, and there are variables they can’t predict.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to that night you offered us.” 

All the restraint he’s learned over years of distance is gone. Kakashi can’t go to meetings that Iruka is scheduled to attend, too afraid he’ll give them both away with a glance.

“Iruka-sensei and I have talked about it,” Naruto says. “He’s torn between you and his sense of duty to Konoha.”

Kakashi’s heart pounds in his chest, flutterings of anxiety hovering, ready to escalate.

“Iruka would never ask me to resign.”

“No,” Naruto agrees. “And you wouldn’t ask him to quit, either.” 

Being Hokage was never Kakashi’s dream the way that it has been for Naruto. Kakashi accepted the role because Konoha needed him to, but he’s more than repaid any debt he may have once owed.

Kakashi wants the chance to deserve Iruka.

“But I could quit,” Kakashi says, vocalizing the desire he’s been finding hard to mitigate. 

Naruto cracks a smile, looking more like the twelve year old Kakashi remembers than the adult that he now is. 

“I told you I was coming for your job, Bakashi-sensei.”

Kakashi stands, relieved that his only argument will be with the elders as to why he’s chosen to step down early.

“A job I am glad to relinquish to you.”

He hopes he’s done right by Minato and Kushina. 

“I promise I’ll take care of Iruka.”

Naruto’s smile goes crooked, jinchuriki sharp, and Kakashi swallows. “You will,” Naruto agrees. “Or I’ll kill you.”

*

“This seems...public,” Iruka says, gaze trailing around the derelict training ground.

“Gai is running through his taijutsu on the edges of the training ground, and I’ve put up a muffling jutsu.”

It’s as private as they can manage, with Yamato on ANBU duty and the hour late. 

“Shikamaru assured me you aren’t dying when he delivered the invite to my office.” Iruka takes a step forward, his hand brushing Kakashi’s cheek. “Why in the world did you call me out here, Kakacchi?”

Kakashi always feels like that nickname disarms him, when really it’s Iruka who puts him out of tilt.

He reaches for Iruka’s hand and pulls it to his chest. The light in Iruka’s eye shifts, a flash of surprise in them.

“I’m resigning as Hokage,” Kakashi says, voice steadier than the elation he feels. “I only have to tell the council to make it official.” 

Then he can kiss Iruka whenever he wants.

“What do you mean? What about Naruto?” Iruka asks, forehead wrinkling. “He isn’t supposed to be Hokage yet.”

“Hokage has always been Naruto’s dream. I’m surprised he let me hang onto the position this long.” Kakashi says.

Naruto will be Hokage - a better one than Kakashi by far - and Kakashi and Iruka won’t have to affect disinterest anytime they end up in the same room. 

There’s no mirroring joy and excitement scrawled across Iruka’s features. 

“Why are you resigning?” Iruka pauses, looking directly at Kakashi. “The real reason, not what you’re presenting to the council.”

“I never wanted to be Hokage,” Kakashi says.”I’ve always been a placeholder until Naruto was older, we both know that.

“Besides,” Kakashi adds. “We could give this a real go, the two of us.”

Iruka’s silence unnerves him, compounded by the way his features have gone shinobi blank.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asks.

“Yellow?” Kakashi guesses in response to the nonsequiteur, because that’s what it is. A guess.

“Nope,” Iruka says. “Not even close.” Iruka pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t ask you to do this. Why did it get so urgent?”

Kakashi is reeling, ground swaying beneath him like an earth jutsu is about to swallow him. 

“I thought—I thought you would be glad.”

“How do you think this will look for me? I’m not going to give up my position at the Academy.”

“I would never ask,” Kakashi says, bewildered. He’s spent years thinking he and Iruka were on the same page with this, that there was a tacit understanding that they’d be together as soon as they could. “And you wouldn’t have to,” he adds. “I won’t be Hokage, so no one will care.”

“They’ll think we’ve been together this whole time!” Iruka’s cheeks are bright red, hotter than Kakashi has ever seen them. 

“Then why didn’t you move on? Were we never going to be together, even after I retired?”

Each moment feels like a chakra tag laced with explosives. Iruka won’t return his gaze, and it seems impossible that the conversation could go this way.

“Can we at least go for dinner tomorrow?” Kakashi asks. 

There’s a moment where he thinks he’s won, where Iruka’s eyes go soft. But then he closes them, and when they open, it’s not his Iruka anymore. This is Umino Iruka, chunin and vice principal.

“I don’t think we should.”

And Umino Iruka isn’t who Kakashi thought. 

*

Naruto is already a more popular Hokage than any of the previous, Kakashi thinks, and Naruto was only inaugurated six months ago.

He suspects that their leadership transition meetings have more to do with concerns of Kakashi spending all of his time alone.

Retirement is nice in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Yamato is helping him renovate the Hatake home, making it a place for new memories instead of pain. The ninken help with that, exploring and claiming each space.

The library practically fills itself, with the books he’s had sealed in scrolls taken out, and retirement gifts from afar. 

This is not the life he thought he would get — never imagined he would live past eighteen — but there are lonelier existences.

Iruka came to his retirement party, but with a standard “thank you for your service” and an impulsive hand squeeze, as though they were only ever coworkers.

He’s fine by himself.

*

He develops small routines, enjoying the comfort of them. He walks the steps of Hokage mountain once a week, carrying on conversations with Minato’s visage while he stands behind it. 

“Naruto is going to outpace us both, but that shouldn’t surprise you,” he tells Minato.

Rocks crash down the side of the mountain and curses rise up from the wind.

Kakashi squints in the direction of Tsunade’s rockface and his heart staccato-thumps in his chest.

Even from this far, after this long -- he knows Iruka’s silhouette. Kakashi is tentative, but even with the shields he’s tried to put in place, he walks to Iruka, who is gamely finishing his climb up the mountain.

“Ah, Kakashi,” Iruka says, casually, like there’s nothing between them. “Gai told me you would be here now. I had a favor to ask.”

“What could I possibly help you with?” Kakashi asks, more surprised than vitriolic. 

Iruka flushes and Kakashi reminds himself that Iruka isn’t his to touch.

“Would you help me… redecorate Naruto’s face, here?” He holds up two paint cans. “I brought the paint, but I could use assistance.”

“Isn’t that technically treason?” 

This version of Iruka seems years lighter as Iruka dips his head and looks back up, grinning.

“It’s only fair since Naruto painted all the other Hokages before you!”

Kakashi doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stretches his hand out for a bucket, just that he’ll vandalize any surface if it makes Iruka smile at him like that.

“Even Tsunade?” Kakashi asks.

“He tried to,” Iruka says, handing Kakashi one of the paint cans. “Sakura got a hold of him first. Couldn’t get the paint out of his hair for a week.”

*

They’re both splattered with paint by the time they finish, and dusk is high. 

“You never vandalized mine,” Kakashi says. “Didn’t you threaten that once?”

They’re sitting in the grass, closer than they’ve been in years. Kakashi could kiss Iruka and hardly move to do it.

“Maybe you should’ve,” Kakashi continues. “It might’ve made you feel better.”

Iruka’s eyes are bright, but he shakes his head when Kakashi tries to move closer. 

“Kakashi, you don’t get it — you think I haven’t been in love with you this entire time because I didn’t jump into your arms when you upended our status quo.

“Years, Kakashi. I have spent years loving and wanting you, and when they asked you to be Hokage, I resigned myself to us staying apart. 

“Everyone else got their happy ending, and so I tried to find a way to be fine with the clock never even starting on ours.

“I don’t want Hatake the Hokage, or the copy-nin, or any of those masks. I want the Kakashi who loves me, the man who gave and gave to Konoha until you were ashes wrung from the will of fire.

“You were stopping wars and I was grading papers imagining you asleep on the couch next to me. What right do I have to any of that? To you?”

Iruka is out of breath, face flushed, and Kakashi loves him.

“You’re all I ever wanted, Iruka,” Kakashi says. “And the only duties I have left to fulfill are to you.”

Iruka curls up beside him, and Kakashi slides his arm around Iruka, drawing him close. 

“I might owe you an apology,” Iruka says, his hand tracing nonsense patterns on Kakashi’s thigh.

“For breaking my heart? Or convincing me to vandalize the mountain?”

“A few apologies,” Iruka corrects. 

Kakashi kisses him, and then does it again when the clouds shift and the moon shines over them. “We have plenty of time.”

**Author's Note:**

> big huge thanks to the beta readers i had --  
> menecio, not only did you encourage me to finish it, but you also edited the hell out of it and talked plot points with me. thank you! you literally went through each scene with me and i would not have finished it so quickly if you hadnt pushed me to!
> 
> 42, your comments were amazing and so useful. thank you.
> 
> badgerrrrr, thank you for all the comments and enthusiasm.
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at the same url, please share your thoughts here or there.
> 
> stay safe and be well!


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